“Because her name had something written beside it.” “What?” He looked at me. “Courier.” I frowned. “Courier?” “That’s all it said.” I tried to understand. “Maybe she delivered documents.” “Maybe.” “What else?” Simon looked uncomfortable. “There was one more name.” “Who?” He said nothing. “Simon.” He slowly reached into his wallet. He removed a folded piece of paper. “I copied the page.” I took it. Several names had been handwritten in columns. Daniel Vale. Kenneth Hart. Amelia Vale.
Beatrice Lennox. Then, near the bottom, one final name. Rose Lennox. Grandma Rose. I stared at it. “No.” Beside her name was a single word. HANDLER. My mouth went dry. “What does handler mean?” “I don’t know.” But we both knew it couldn’t mean anything good. Then I remembered Grandma Rose in the kitchen. Her insistence that Beatrice tell the truth. Her guilt. Her presence twenty years earlier when Beatrice visited Amelia. Maybe Grandma Rose hadn’t simply been watching from the car.
Maybe she had been involved from the beginning. I folded the paper. “I’m going back.” “What?” “To Beatrice.” “Mason, the address—” “It’s hours before midnight.” Simon checked his watch. “Be careful.” I drove back to Beatrice’s house faster than I should have. The silver sedan was gone. The porch light was on. The front door stood open. That immediately felt wrong.
“Beatrice?”
No answer.
I stepped inside.
The lilies still sat on the kitchen table.
The birthday gift remained unopened.
A wine glass lay shattered on the floor.
“Beatrice?”
Nothing.
Then I saw the blood.
Not much.
A few drops near the stairs.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I followed them.
“Grandma?”
Silence.
The trail ended near Kenneth’s study.
The door was open.
Inside, drawers had been pulled out.
Papers covered the floor.
Someone had searched the room.
“Beatrice?”
A sound came from downstairs.
I turned.
The basement.
The door stood slightly open.
I moved toward it.
Every instinct told me to leave.
Instead, I descended.
The basement lights were off.
I used my phone flashlight.
“Beatrice?”
Something moved.
I nearly shouted.
Then Grandma Rose stepped into the beam.
She was holding a gun.
I froze.
Her face looked completely different.
No tears.
No fragile old woman.
Nothing grandmotherly remained in her expression.
“Put your phone down, Mason.”
My hand shook.
“Grandma?”
“Down.”
I slowly lowered it.
“Where’s Beatrice?”
“Safe.”
“What does that mean?”
She ignored me.
“Did Simon find the ledger?”
My blood turned cold.
She knew.
I stared at her.
“What’s a handler?”
For the first time, her expression changed.
Just slightly.
She smiled.
Not kindly.
“So Kenneth kept better records than I thought.”
I took a step backward.
“Who are you?”
“I’m your grandmother.”
“Whose mother?”
The question came out before I understood why.
Rose’s smile disappeared.
I suddenly remembered something.
Beatrice and Grandma Rose looked nothing alike.
Not unusual.
But something about the question disturbed her.
I pushed further.
“Are you actually Beatrice’s mother?”
She tightened her grip on the gun.
“Family is more complicated than blood.”
My pulse hammered.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
“Who are you?”
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then she said, “The woman who kept your family alive for twenty-three years.”
“By killing Kenneth?”
Her face hardened.
“I didn’t kill Kenneth.”
“Who did?”
Before she could answer, footsteps sounded upstairs.
Rose turned slightly.
A mistake.
I rushed her.
The gun fired.
The blast deafened me.
The bullet struck the concrete wall.
I grabbed her wrist.
She was stronger than I expected.
We struggled.
She hit me across the face with her free hand.
I slammed her arm against a shelf.
The gun fell.
I kicked it away.
Then the basement light switched on.
Beatrice stood at the top of the stairs.
Blood ran from a cut above her eyebrow.
She was holding a kitchen knife.
“Mother.”
Rose looked up.
“Don’t.”
Beatrice descended one step.
“You should have stayed gone.”
I looked between them.
“What is happening?”
Neither answered.
Rose’s expression softened.
“Beatrice, think about what you’re doing.”
“For twenty years, that’s all I’ve done.”
“You made your choices.”
“So did you.”
Rose’s eyes flicked toward me.
“Tell him.”
Beatrice stared at her.
“You tell him.”
Rose smiled faintly.
“All right.”
She looked at me.
“Kenneth didn’t adopt you because Amelia asked him to.”
I frowned.
“He adopted you because he was trying to correct what he had done.”
“What did he do?”
Rose’s smile vanished.
“He was the one who gave Daniel’s location away.”
My chest tightened.
“No.”
“He panicked. He thought the people funding the company would kill all of you.”
“You’re lying.”
“He traded Daniel’s location for protection.”
I looked at Beatrice.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“It’s true.”
I stepped backward.
Kenneth.
The man I worshipped.
The man who saved us.
He had betrayed our father.
“Then why did he take us?”
“Guilt,” Rose said.
“What happened to Daniel?”
She said nothing.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?”
Beatrice whispered, “We don’t know.”
Rose looked at her.
“Stop protecting him.”
“Protecting who?”
I shouted.
Rose stared at me.
Then she spoke slowly.
“Daniel survived.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t understand.”
A sound came from upstairs.
A floorboard creaked.
All three of us stopped.
Rose’s eyes widened.
Beatrice turned.
Footsteps crossed the living room.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Someone was inside the house.
Then a man’s voice came from the top of the basement stairs.
“You always did talk too much, Rose.”
My entire body froze.
The voice.
I had heard it before.
Hours ago.
On the cassette.
But that was impossible.
A man stepped into view.
Gray hair.
Older face.
A scar along his chin.
But I knew him.
The photographs in Kenneth’s study.
The smile in our childhood pictures.
The man who had sat in the front row at every school play.
Beatrice dropped the knife.
It struck the stairs.
I couldn’t breathe.
“K-Kenneth?”
The man looked at me.
His eyes filled with tears.
“Hello, Mason.”
My knees nearly gave way.
“You died.”
He descended one step.
“I know what you were told.”
“You died.”
“I’m sorry.”
Seventeen years.
Seventeen years of grief.
Seventeen years of visiting a grave.
Seventeen years believing my father was dead.
Beatrice stared at him with pure hatred.
“You promised you would never come back.”
Kenneth looked at her.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Why now?”
His eyes shifted toward me.
“Because Simon found the ledger.”
I stared at him.
“Who are you?”
Pain crossed Kenneth’s face.
“I told you on the tape.”
“My uncle?”
“Yes.”
“Then why fake your death?”
He looked at Rose.
“Because she ordered it.”
Rose’s face remained calm.
Kenneth continued.
“And because Daniel came back.”
My heart pounded.
“Where is Daniel?”
Kenneth did not answer.
Instead, he reached into his coat.
Beatrice grabbed the knife again.
“Don’t.”
Kenneth slowly removed a photograph.
He held it out.
I hesitated before taking it.
It was recent.
Very recent.
Simon stood outside the workshop.
The photograph had been taken today.
Beside him was another man.
Older.
Gray at the temples.
Familiar face.
My face.
Simon’s face.
Daniel.
I looked at Kenneth.
“This was taken today?”
“Less than an hour ago.”
My phone rang.
Simon.
I answered instantly.
“Simon?”
No response.
Then a man spoke.
The same voice that had called earlier.
“Mason.”
I stared at the photograph in my hand.
“Daniel?”
A quiet laugh.
“You can call me Dad.”
My knees almost buckled.
“Where’s Simon?”
“With me.”
“If you hurt him—”
“I’m not going to hurt my son.”
“What do you want?”
“The ledger.”
“It’s gone.”
“I know.”
My eyes moved to Rose.
She looked suddenly worried.
Daniel continued.
“Rose has it.”
Kenneth looked at her.
Beatrice did too.
Rose’s face hardened.
Daniel said, “Ask her why she kept it.”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because the ledger isn’t a list of criminals.”
Silence.
“It’s a list of witnesses.”
I looked at Kenneth.
He went pale.
Daniel continued.
“And Rose has been hunting them for twenty years.”
Rose lunged for the gun.
Kenneth moved first.
The basement exploded into motion.
Beatrice screamed.
Kenneth grabbed Rose.
The phone slipped from my hand.
A gunshot thundered.
Someone fell.
I couldn’t tell who.
Then the lights went out.
In the darkness, Daniel’s voice still came faintly through my phone on the floor.
“Mason!”
I crawled toward it.
Another struggle.
A crash.
Beatrice shouted.
Then silence.
I found my phone.
“Daniel?”
His breathing was fast.
“Mason, listen to me.”
“Where is Simon?”
“He’s safe.”
“Put him on.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
A pause.
Then Daniel said something that turned my blood to ice.
“Because Simon already left.”
“What?”
“He left ten minutes ago.”
“To go where?”
Daniel became silent.
Then he said, “To meet Amelia.”
I stared into the darkness.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Mason…”
“What?”
Daniel’s voice changed.
For the first time, he sounded afraid.
“I never told Simon where Amelia was.”
I stopped breathing.
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
At that exact moment, a light appeared beneath the basement door.
Someone stood upstairs.
A shadow.
Still.
Watching.
Then a woman’s voice floated down the stairs.
Soft.
Almost trembling.
“Mason?”
My entire body went rigid.
Kenneth whispered from somewhere in the darkness.
“No.”
Beatrice gasped.
Rose said nothing.
I looked toward the stairs.
The woman stepped into view.
Brown hair streaked with gray.
Gray eyes.
My eyes.
Tears covered her face.
She held Simon’s jacket in one hand.
“Mom?” I whispered.
The woman looked at me.
Then at Kenneth.
Then at Rose.
Finally, she said the words that shattered the last piece of the story I thought I understood.
“Mason, you need to come with me.”
I stared at Simon’s jacket.
“Where’s my brother?”
Her face crumpled.
“He found out the truth about which one of you is actually my son.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Amelia stood at the top of the basement stairs holding Simon’s jacket against her chest as though it were the only thing keeping her upright.
Her final words still echoed through me.
“He found out the truth about which one of you is actually my son.”
My mouth went dry.
“What does that mean?”
Amelia looked at me, but before she could answer, Rose spoke from somewhere behind me.
“Don’t.”
The single word was colder than the gunshot.
Kenneth was still struggling to get back onto his feet. Beatrice leaned against the wall, one hand pressed against the cut above her eyebrow.
And suddenly I understood something terrifying.
Everyone in that basement knew what Amelia meant except me.
I climbed one step toward her.
“Where is Simon?”
“Mason—”
“Where is my brother?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He’s safe.”
“Everybody keeps saying that.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“Kenneth was dead, except he wasn’t. Daniel disappeared, except he didn’t. You abandoned us, except you didn’t. Rose was our grandmother, except apparently she isn’t.”
I pointed toward Simon’s jacket.
“And now you’re telling me one of us isn’t your son?”
Amelia closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, something had changed.
She was no longer looking at me like a stranger.
She was looking at me like a mother who had imagined this conversation a thousand times and hated every version of it.
“You are my son, Mason.”
My heart lurched.
I swallowed.
“And Simon?”
Amelia looked down.
The silence answered before she did.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Mason—”
“No.”
I moved backward.
“Simon is my twin.”
Nobody spoke.
“We have the same birthday.”
Still nothing.
“We were adopted together.”
Amelia whispered, “I know.”
“We look alike.”
“Not as much as you think.”
I stared at her.
Something inside my chest began cracking open.
“What are you saying?”
Amelia descended the stairs slowly.
“You were born at St. Vincent’s Medical Center.”
My pulse hammered.
“Simon wasn’t.”
I almost laughed.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“It is.”
“No, Mason.”
Her voice broke.
“You and Simon were not born on the same day.”
The basement seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
I searched every face.
Beatrice looked away.
Kenneth lowered his head.
Rose remained terrifyingly calm.
“You knew,” I whispered.
Beatrice’s shoulders sagged.
“Yes.”
“All these years?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, my voice came out almost childlike.
“Then why did you tell us we were twins?”
